


A Creature of Obsession

by auri_mynonys



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Creepy Grima is Creepy, F/M, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Short One Shot, Stalking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auri_mynonys/pseuds/auri_mynonys
Summary: Grima Wormtongue knows exactly what he wants, until her.





	A Creature of Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbley little thing I wrote to amp me up for a longer piece. Was going to toss it in my drafts folder, but it's enough to stand on its own. Enjoy!

Grima son of Galmod was a creature of obsession. It had always been thus, even when he was a boy: falling for some bauble in the square, wheedling, whining, even thieving if he was forced to it. He pursued nothing if he did not mean for it to be his, and everything he chased, he eventually won.

He did not anticipate his courtship of Eowyn to be any different.

Like everything else Grima loved, she had possessed him like some hellish demon from the moment he’d first seen her with a sword in her hands, seen the passion burning beneath the icy surface she so commonly wore as her natural face. She lied, oh yes, she lied each day to all these courtiers, to her brother and cousin and Uncle. To everyone but her naked sword. To everyone but him. He had believed her cold and cruel, and gods, she was that too; but he knew what lay beneath the surface, and he wanted it.  _ Needed  _ it.

He had seen her bared before him, and he had known he could not be still within himself again until she belonged to him.

Grima had envied men their pretty wives and mistresses before, of course, but he had never put much thought into taking one for himself. His formidable concentrations were ever upon power, upon increasing his own wealth and influence, rising higher and higher in the ranks. He wanted security, he wanted comfort, he wanted assurance that he himself was in control of his own destiny - that no man would dare,  _ could  _ dare, to spit upon his name and bring him down. He had spent his life looked down upon by the worthless strawhead bastards Rohan called nobles, and he meant to destroy their precious lives piece by piece if he could. They would beg him for mercy and he would laugh as they burned, laugh at their suffering, as they had laughed at his. Such sweet justice it would be…

And justice could afford no distractions.

He had put the notion of wives and whores and mistresses out of his head, for no woman had ever furthered his goals. Bringing a wayward outsider into his life would merely cause complications in the plans he was so doggedly pursuing. So he let the notion lie, save for the occasional stab of jealousy he felt as he watched a happy wedding procession pass, heard the panting moans of a couple somewhere near to hand screwing each other senseless. He would he could afford such a luxury - but he could not. Not yet.

But now. Ah, now.

Sitting at the King’s side, with a wizard’s power behind his back, and success all but guaranteed,  _ now  _ Grima could afford to think of pleasure and reward. He had been idly entertaining the notion of a wife for weeks, casting cursory glances at the daughters of the noblemen, sizing up wives and mistresses alike in case one of those should perhaps suit him better. But nothing he saw pleased him. Nothing was good enough. Nothing was  _ worthy _ of his grand aspirations.

Nothing, until Eowyn.

He had had the thought once as he bowed to Eowyn in the early morning, preparing to breakfast with the royal family. He had scoffed inwardly and dismissed it out of hand; for though Eowyn was beautiful, and certainly the highest lady in the land, he found her cold and distant and unpleasant. He wanted her to suffer, as her family would suffer, as everyone would suffer beneath his hand.

But the idea wouldn’t leave him alone. It popped into his head at odd moments: when she sang for the hall at a great feast, or when he caught the scent of her perfume on the air as she swept past him, or when he brought her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss.  _ She is beautiful. She is noble. Having her would defile everything that Rohan stands for. What greater joy than that? _

He began to follow her, tracing her steps, learning her day-to-day schedule. He had never put much thought into what it was a woman did with her days, and he found himself curious as to how Eowyn passed hers. Much of her work brought her into contact with him, for she oversaw all matters of the house, and he all of the King’s affairs. As such, they consulted frequently over the coffers, the stores of food, the number and assortment of guests for feasts, the particular seating and sleeping arrangements that would be best suited for winning whatever favors Theoden hoped to gain from those he entertained. She always treated these meetings as unpleasant tasks she hoped to finish quickly, but Grima began to linger, forcing her to follow him as he dragged the conversation this way and that, taking her on tangents it would be most impolitic of her to cut off. It was a game to him, a  _ delightful  _ game - made all the sweeter by how much it angered her to be forced to play it.

_ Pretty, tow-headed little fool _ , he thought.  _ Resist while you can. Resist while I allow you to. _

Then he had arisen early one morning to find her in the courtyard, her sword in hand and blazing fire in her eyes. He had watched, breathless, as she went through the motions, as fluid as water. She came suddenly alive for him: a brilliant, beautiful monster trapped in an icy prison, forced to chores and housewifery when inside she was  _ more. _

She was more than these idiotic strawheads could ever understand - but she was not too much for Grima.

No doubt his lovely swordmistress thought of him as another cage, another set of chains meant to bind her. His task was no simple one, for he must convince her that his love was as stalwart and unyielding as her warrior’s heart, and that he meant not to trap her besides. At last he had found an equal in a sea of golden simpletons. He could have no other.

A little coaxing, and she would see it too. He was certain of it.


End file.
